


I Walked with You Once upon a Dream

by Snabulous



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Dreams, Loneliness, M/M, Nightmares, Regret, i wrote this in one sitting and have not edited it in any way, i'm sad now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snabulous/pseuds/Snabulous
Summary: Juno has always had vivid dreams.





	I Walked with You Once upon a Dream

Juno has always had vivid dreams. Dreams so solid they feel real, full of sensations that his sleep-addled brain convinces him that he can feel, smell, see when he wakes. It’s been like this ever since he was a kid. He used to have hyper-realistic nightmares that would end in him screaming and sobbing into Benton’s shoulder after he came to comfort him. Benton was always there when the nightmares happened.

Now, when Juno Steel has nightmares, he wakes up alone. Alone in his dark apartment, wishing desperately, selfishly, for Benton to come back and tell him the nightmare isn’t real, and it’s okay, Juno, you’ll be okay. They can’t hurt you; it’s okay.

Juno wakes up alone when he has other types of dreams, too. He is always alone when he dreams of Nureyev, of those long, spidery limbs, of the delicate movements belying his strength, of those knife-sharp canines grazing Juno’s skin, of that cologne. That _damn_ cologne.

He wakes up smelling that cologne but not really. He tells himself it’s not there, but still he turns his head and cranes his neck, nose searching for that scent, but it’s always just a _little_ too far away.

Those dreams leave him feeling more alone than the nightmares because for one fleeting moment he feels whole. He feels the press of Nureyev’s body on his, hears his name whispered in his ear, and he can smell. That. Cologne.

In his sleep, he feels the warmth under Nureyev’s skin but wakes up cold in an empty bed with a freshly carved pit in his chest that gapes wider with every passing second. The ghost-touch lingers as if Nureyev’s long fingers had just been there, and Juno can’t draw in a full breath for the pain in his heart. 

If only they had never met; if only Juno had never left him. Then he would never have felt this emptiness, this torture. These dreams that are more like nightmares in the daylight. 


End file.
